


The Holly Branch

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: Major Crimes (TV), The Closer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3113903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Brunettes Just Wanna Have Fun." Brenda and Sharon have another chance encounter. That has to mean something, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Holly Branch

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a stocking stuffer for i-must-go-first. She’s been begging me for a sequel to Brunettes Just Wanna Have Fun, so here it is. This could potentially be a stand alone fic, but it couldn’t hurt to read it for context…(she says, hoping more people will read her fics…) Please let me know what you think! Comments are love!

Lucinda Williams was singing to Sharon Raydor about compassion as she cut the engine, and the blaring Christmas music that boomed throughout the tree lot immediately replaced the raspy, soulful lyrics that spoke directly to Sharon’s soul. A shrill, youthful pop star was singing now about Rudolph as if the reindeer were an elusive on-again-off-again boyfriend, and Sharon braced herself as she unbuckled her seatbelt. 

The selection of a Christmas tree had always been a magical process for the O’Dwyer family growing up in Northern California, where Sharon had been completely enchanted whenever the typical rain had been replaced by snow. Snow was an elusive fantasy in LA, and she still found it slightly jarring to be wearing a light jacket over a short-sleeved t-shirt as she looked for a Christmas tree. Still, the magic of finding the perfect tree had been alive when her kids were growing up, but this year, her kids were either too busy or too far away, and her foster son was too skittish about committing to any holiday activity. She suspected that it had to do with his guilt and anger about spending the holiday with a Sharon who was not his mother, and she was unable to persuade him to join her, even with the promise of burgers for dinner. Now, as she stepped out of the car, she felt lonely and somewhat assaulted by the barrage of Top 40 Christmas song remakes. Where was Bing Crosby? Nat King Cole? Was nothing sacred anymore?

As her boots hit the asphalt and she slung her purse strap over her shoulder, Sharon shook her hair over her shoulders and cleared her mind. She was a woman on a mission to find a perfect Christmas tree, one that would bear the weight of five plus decades of ornaments and memories and love, and one that she hoped would spark even the smallest flicker of holiday spirit in the sad, angsty teenager residing in her home. It wouldn’t be the first time she had selected a tree on her own, and she ruminated on the possibility that it might not be the last. With a wistful sigh, Sharon walked through the gate of the chain link fence and attempted to channel some semblance of festive cheer. 

Piercing green eyes scanned the large lot, scrutinizing the selection of trees. She was pleased that there still appeared to be a promising assortment, ranging from the bedraggled Charlie Brown sort to the magnificently lush eight-foot spruce. She needed something that fell in the middle of this spectrum, something that was durable and healthy and green but not so large that it would dominate the space of her modest condo. 

The scent of the pine was strong and it instantly soothed her. She paused for a moment and closed her eyes, shutting away the screaming children and pop music and disgruntled workers in beer-stained t-shirts. She took a moment to revel in the fact that it was Christmastime. She was healthy and her family was healthy and Rusty was safe. So what if certain aspects of her life weren’t completely lined up to where she wanted them? So what if she was still single, and still meeting lingering resistance with her team? She was grateful to be alive and present in that moment. She could find magic here. 

A toddler breezed by, her flailing arms tapping Sharon in the leg as she went, disturbing the peaceful moment. Sharon smiled at the little girl as she darted through the maze of trees, her mother chasing after her. Had it been a few decades earlier, Emily’s frenetic energy would have had her ten steps and a pirouet ahead of Sharon and Ricky, who would have been talking animatedly about the differences between fir trees and pine trees. Jack would have been absent, as always, and Sharon would have been working double time to make up for it, to distract herself and her children from thinking about what their daddy could be doing that was more important than his family. 

She gave a little sigh, fingering the branch of the closest tree. She examined its potential and snapped a few photos with her phone, texting it to her children with a few reminiscent missives about their little holiday traditions. A pang tugged at her heart and she ardently wished that she weren’t alone. She could not and would not resent her children for being grown and having lives of their own; that was a facet of motherhood she had accepted long ago. When she was younger and preparing herself for the inevitability of an empty nest, she had not considered the fact that she would also be single. She had always imagined that she’d find companionship of some sort. The reality hit her like a punch to the gut. She was fine, really, on her own…

But did she really want to just be “fine”?

The last time she had gone out seeking companionship, she thought she’d found it. She thought that the stars had aligned in some sort of cosmic sign, bringing her face to face with the woman she’d been in love with for years. After that night, she’d gotten caught up in the what-ifs that went hand-in-hand with hope: _what if now we can finally have our chance? What if she doesn’t call? What if we make a mess of it? What if she’s the woman I’m meant to grow old with?_

And it _had_ been a mess. She cringed and tried to push away sappy thoughts of picking out a Christmas tree with Brenda Leigh Johnson. The stars had fallen out of alignment and that moment had passed. Sharon would learn to be okay with that. Some things, alas, were not meant to be. 

Her eyes widened when she caught sight of the price of the tree she had been admiring. This tree was definitely not meant to be. 

The strains of one warbled pop song blended into the next. This one was about a girl imploring Santa to grant her the affections of a boy she liked. Sharon rolled her eyes. This singer seemed to have trouble enunciating her words, making her sound as if she were propositioning Santa Claus. She snorted and, pulling a single needle from the tree to twirl between her fingers, meandered further into the makeshift cement forest. 

As Sharon rounded a particularly large fir, she saw a woman swaying rather comically to the music. There was no discernible rhythm, but it was not the fact that this woman was dancing to such a ridiculous song that caught Sharon’s eye. What made Sharon take notice was the shape of this woman’s body, the curves of her waist, the form-fitting jeans that clung to her hips, the purple cardigan that hugged her torso and the long waves of gently curling brown hair that fell against her back.

Sharon smirked to herself. 

She’d know that body anywhere. 

She could have laughed aloud at having stumbled upon the very woman she had just been thinking about. It would seem like a sign if Sharon didn’t spend so much of her time thinking about the former deputy chief on a daily basis, but still, of all places…

Sharon was torn. She felt compelled to approach and yet, the sting of rejection had been painful enough that she feared a repeat performance. She had no expectation out of this chance encounter; this was much, much different than bumping into someone in a nightclub after a few drinks. Sharon had attributed it all to the flirtatious courage that came with alcohol and the freeing excitement of an impulsive makeover. She couldn’t truly fault Brenda, who had just divorced her husband and had always been a little selfish. The only thing that remained the same in the light of day was the frisson of excitement that skittered down Sharon’s spine. Sure, the woman had stood her up, but even Sharon couldn’t ignore the fact that she still looked fantastic from behind. 

The what-ifs flooded back then. What if she had accepted Brenda’s offer to dance and had seized the moment? Would they have fallen into bed together, as she had both feared and hoped they would? Would they have begun dating? Would the sparks have fizzled out? Would they have ended up in this very lot, choosing a tree together? 

Rejection be damned. So maybe they weren’t meant to be, but there was no denying that it was a sign to have run into Brenda Leigh Johnson in one of a hundred tree lots in the city. 

Sharon took a tentative step closer, licking her lips. She swallowed a laugh as she could better hear Brenda’s out-of-tune humming. 

“You’re a beautiful dancer,” Sharon said, repeating the words she had unwittingly hit in Brenda in the club that night. She smirked. The circumstances were completely different and yet, some things never changed. 

Brenda jumped and spun around, her doe eyes large and wide. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! You scared me!” And, as she realized just who had scared her, Brenda’s face flushed furiously with vibrant color. “Sharon! What’re you doin’ here?” 

Sharon nodded toward the tree before them. “The same as you, I imagine.” 

Brenda grinned sheepishly. “I suppose so.” She looked away then, her eyes raptly observing the boots peeking out from beneath the hem of her boot cut jeans. 

Sharon could tell that she was uncomfortable. She wanted to reach out to touch Brenda, to soothe away the discomfort the other woman obviously felt for standing her up and blowing off their plans, but she resisted the urge and slid her fingers deeper into the pockets of her jacket. It had hurt more than she had expected when they’d had to cancel their plans, and it had hurt even worse when Brenda had not shown to the coffee shop after their final attempt. Sharon had given up at that point, swallowing her pride and embarrassment after sitting for an hour and a half in a crowded cafe, and had heard nothing since. She had spent years making excuses for Brenda Leigh Johnson, and she’d reached her limit. She waited, tilting her head as Brenda squirmed for the words. 

It did not surprise Sharon in the least that Brenda did not immediately apologize. Instead, Brenda went for a safer approach. “So….how’ve you been?” 

“I’ve been doing well. Yourself?” 

Brenda’s eyes continued to dart around, avoiding Sharon’s gaze. The younger woman bit the inside of her cheek, twisting her lips in thought. After a moment of awkward silence, Brenda said, “Oh, fine. I’ve been fine. So you’re in the market for a Christmas tree, huh?” 

It was the sort of small talk that Sharon hated, but she found some comfort in finally talking to Brenda again face-to-face that she hardly minded the inane topic. She nodded. “I don’t usually buy one this early when I’m on my own, but I thought it might get Rusty into the Christmas spirit to have a tree.” She smiled affectionately as she recalled the young man. “I don’t know if he’ll help me decorate or if he’s simply going to humor me, but I thought it might be worth a shot.” 

“I hope he will. It’d be good for him, I think. Some sense of normalcy…” 

_Normality,_ Sharon thought. She wondered if it had ever been normal for Rusty at Christmastime, if the other Sharon had gotten a tree and stockings and presents. Her heart tugged painfully for him. “I think so too.”

“I wasn’t plannin’ on gettin’ a tree at all this year, but my daddy’s comin’ for a visit in a week or two, so it’s mostly for him.” 

“You wouldn’t have gotten a tree otherwise?” 

Brenda shrugged. “I don’t think so. It’s my first Christmas since my mama passed, and since Fritzi and I split up...I’m not feelin’ the holiday spirit so much this year.” 

Sharon’s mouth tipped into a frown. “It gets better,” Sharon promised, knowing it was little consolation for losses that were still fresh. “I’m glad you’ll have your father up for a visit. Maybe it’ll be good for the both of you to have that time together?” 

The younger woman smiled. “I think so. I may end up goin’ back to Atlanta with him for the actual holiday, just to be with him and my brothers. I don’t have any compellin’ reason to stay in the city. What’re you doin’ for Christmas?” 

“I think this year will be pretty low key. My kids will make it home if they can, though I suspect that Emily will be with friends and that Ricky will be working. I’ll have Rusty, which will be very nice. I don’t want to spring too much on him, but I might try a few days in Park City with my parents. They’ll love him, but he might be a little overwhelmed.” Her eyes twinkled and she chuckled. “My family goes pretty hard at Christmas.” 

Brenda grinned. “That sounds really nice, actually. Maybe I need to go a little harder myself, for my daddy an’ me.” 

“It couldn’t hurt. You may end up enjoying it.” 

Brenda nodded slowly. “Rusty’s lucky to have you, y’know.” 

Deep down, Sharon knew this to be true, just as she knew it to be true that she was lucky to have him. Still, hearing it from Brenda, one of the least sentimental people that she knew, was gratifying. “Thanks, Brenda.”

The other woman smiled, tucking a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. “You look good, Sharon. It’s really good to see you.” 

The captain blushed again, completely against her will. “So do you. I must say that I’m surprised you’re still a brunette. I expected that you’d have gone back to blonde by now.” 

Brenda touched her hair self-consciously. “It kinda grew on me. It was just an impulse thing but now I kinda like it. Maybe I’ll go red next or somethin’.”

Sharon swallowed, imagining the younger woman as a redhead. The mental image made her palms sweat. “You’ll look beautiful regardless. The brown suits you.” 

“Thanks, Sharon.” 

There was a stretch of silence, during which time both women looked everywhere but at each other. Sharon waited, needing to know what the other woman would do next. She all but held her breath, imagining that the next step would be Brenda making an excuse to leave. She braced herself for it, devising a plan that included buying the overpriced tree, a large bottle of chardonnay, and getting out all of the Christmas ornaments that had been stored away. 

“So...look, Sharon. Can I buy you a cup of cocoa?” Brenda’s eyes were slightly wild as she asked and she pointed over at the stand set off in the corner of the lot. 

Sharon noticed the small green booth, recognition dawning as she realized that’s where Brenda’s eyes had continued to dart while they had talked. Sharon’s cheeks infused with heat. It was an olive branch -- or a holly branch, in this case -- and Sharon briefly told herself that maybe she shouldn’t accept it, because with Brenda came baggage filled with frustration, but it was _Brenda_ and it _was_ Christmastime… 

She should say no because then they might be even, but instead Sharon said, “All right. I’d like that.” 

Brown eyes brightened considerably. “Really?” 

Sharon nodded. Brenda’s face broke into a smile, and Sharon felt that familiar tingle in her stomach at the sight of it. She was as beautiful as ever and Sharon found herself smiling back. Her disappointment and irritation with the other woman had dissipated as it always did. On some level, Sharon knew that she shouldn’t make so many allowances for her, not when Brenda had proven to be a bit of a flake time and time again--but didn’t you make allowances for the people you loved? “Yes -- on one condition.” 

Brenda laughed softly, fidgeting with the large purse strap that hung over her shoulder. She nodded in the direction of the booth and they slowly made their way. “Sharon Raydor, always makin’ deals. That seems fair. What is it?” 

“I’ll have hot chocolate with you as long as you tell me why you never came to the coffee shop that day.” 

Brenda chewed her lip. “I knew you were gonna ask…” 

“You must have an explanation ready then,” Sharon replied, cringing as she realized just how sharp and accusatory she had sounded. 

“Fair enough.” Brenda sighed, her cheeks tinged with the red hue of embarrassment. They approached the booth and Brenda ordered two styrofoam cups of steaming hot chocolate from the bored looking teenager behind the booth. 

“You want marshmallows?” he asked, pumping hot liquid from the carafe. 

Sharon shook her head while Brenda nodded emphatically, and Sharon grinned. Some things never changed. 

Brenda handed him a five dollar bill and told him to keep the change while Sharon eyed the lot for an empty bench. They headed toward the back until they came upon a vacant seat, which they eagerly occupied. Sharon cupped her hands around her steaming cocoa, trying to imagine how heavenly it would be if the weather were just a little cooler. They sipped their drinks in a companionable silence which should have been awkward given the question hanging in the air, but surprisingly wasn’t. It felt so good to be sitting on a bench beside Brenda Leigh, smelling the faint traces of her perfume mingled with the heady scent of pine. She had missed Brenda so much that forgiveness already lingered on her tongue. All she needed now was an explanation. 

Brenda took a bracing breath. “Sharon...I’m sorry I stood you up. I just got...I was…” She fumbled for words and, failing, stopped searching. “That was pretty awful of me and I’m sorry.” 

“I appreciate that,” Sharon replied. An apology was a start. “It was a little uncomfortable to sit in that cafe. I felt a little like Cary Grant.” 

“Sure...but I just chickened out. I didn’t get hit by a taxi while I daydreamed my way into oncomin’ traffic.” 

Sharon snorted. “Well, I’m relieved to hear that. I asked around anyway, just to make sure you were alive. Complete radio silence can be slightly terrifying, you know.” Brenda hung her head and covered her eyes with her free hand. Sharon knew that she was laying the guilt on a little thick, but she couldn’t bear the thought of begging anymore for an explanation. 

“I’m the worst, aren’t I?” 

“For not following through on a date? No. That doesn’t make you the worst, Brenda Leigh. Not by a long shot.” 

“I went back and looked for you a few times, y’know,” Brenda began. “At that bar. I haven’t seen you back there.” 

“I haven’t gone back since then.” 

“Why not?” 

Sharon looked at her levelly. “I found what I had been looking for. I didn’t need to go back.” She pursed her lips, wondering what else -- or who else -- Brenda may have found instead on those nights. “You could have called me. You’ve always known where to find me. I hadn’t gone anywhere.” 

“I know. I should have. I wanted to go to that cafe, Sharon. I keep kickin’ myself for not turnin’ up.” 

“So why didn’t you, Brenda Leigh?” she asked, her frustration mounting. 

“I was...scared, I guess.” 

“Scared of me?” 

Brenda’s cheeks infused with a rosy hue. “Scared of what we could be.” 

Sharon’s heart rate quickened. “And what is that, exactly?” 

Their eyes met, and the electricity that passed between them was the same as it had always been. “You know what.” 

Sharon’s tongue darted out to wet her dry lips, and she watched as Brenda’s eyes tracked its progress. “Maybe we could have finally realized that months ago.” 

“Is it too late?” Brenda asked, cocking her head to the side as she watched the captain carefully. 

Sharon contemplated this. She loved Brenda -- she always had, but the prospect of opening herself up to the possibility of taking the next step was terrifying, especially if Brenda failed to follow through again. They had reached this impasse a dozen times throughout the course of their relationship, but the last time had filled Sharon with hope because Brenda was finally single and blatantly interested in pursuing something that would need not be conducted in the shadows. “No…” 

“Is there a ‘but’?” 

“I suppose I’m approaching this with a little more...caution.” 

“I don’t blame you. I deserve it, really.” Brenda set down her empty cup, twisting so that her knees touched Sharon’s. “Wanna try again?” 

After a pause, Sharon nodded. “Yes.” 

Brenda grinned. “Will you have dinner with me tonight?” 

Sharon’s stomach flip-flopped. There was very little time between that moment and that night for Brenda to change her mind, and Sharon wondered if that was the point. “I would like that.” 

“I’ll pick you up at 7?” 

“Make it 6:30.” 

“It’s a date.” 

Sharon pulled back the sleeve of her jacket, twisting her wrist to catch a glimpse of her watch. “It’s already half past 4 o’clock. I think I’d better get my tree and head home so I can get ready.” 

“It’s 4:30 already?” Brenda shot to her feet. “I’ve gotta get home and make reservations and do my hair…” 

Sharon laughed, swept up in the giddiness as she stood as well. “How long will it take you to do your hair?” 

“Too long!” Brenda tossed her cup into the trash can and hoisted her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tonight?” 

Sharon nodded. Brenda grinned and, to her complete surprise, leaned in and pressed her mouth against Sharon’s. The kiss -- their first -- was soft, gentle, and full of promise. Sharon felt shivers skitter down her spine. 

Brenda placed one parting kiss before she whispered, “Mistletoe.” She squeezed Sharon’s hand. 

“There is no mistletoe,” Sharon mumbled back, glancing above her to confirm. 

In response, Brenda Leigh simply winked, gave a little wave, and walked away. 

Sharon’s stomach somersaulted. She had not expected any of this when she left the house in search of a Christmas tree. She made her way back over to the overpriced tree she had photographed and signaled to one of the workers. 

Perhaps some things _were_ meant to be after all. 

And then, to Sharon’s ultimate delight, her favorite Christmas song began to play, making up for all of the awful remakes that had been blared throughout the lot. There were many versions of Silent Night, but the one by Stevie Nicks was, to Sharon, the most beautiful and most haunting. She smiled to herself, wondering if this could be a little Christmas gift from the universe. 

She wondered if Brenda was also a gift, the one she had wanted for years and had finally received. 

\---


End file.
